


Puppy Breath

by Spot_On60



Category: A-Team, The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attorney John Smith needs some help relieving stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [a life sentence (in your arms)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650455) by [tattooedsiren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooedsiren/pseuds/tattooedsiren). 



 

  
  
Just making it in time to the first tee, he couldn't have been more impressive with his swing. Smooth and steady. The sound of air breaking as he swung, leading into a light tick as the sweet spot of the driver met the ball. The silver haired forty-seven-year-old watched the little orb sail straight and true down the fairway.

"It never gets better than that," John noted out loud, not actually meaning to speak.

"Nice shot!" The voice came to him from behind and to his left.

He turned and was met by a pair of amazingly blue eyes. Though shadowed by the bill of a baseball cap, they radiated all the same.

"I'm sorry you didn't get paired with a better player; unfortunately, you're stuck with me," the young man said swinging his bag over his shoulder as the two set off on a round of golf.

John was a tall man, six foot-four. The man he had been paired with for the same tee time wasn't as tall, but easily over six foot himself. Long legs striding, the two headed down the fairway.

"When I said, 'It never gets better,' I really meant it _never_ gets better. That shot was a fluke. I'm lousy at this game."

"Well it looked good from where I was standing," shouted the handsome young man over a shoulder as he split off, making his way to the rough.

Having waited his turn, John was now watching as his own ball sliced off to the right.

And so it went.

Two play-throughs, including a foursome, later and they were close enough to the ninth green to smell it. John watched as a ball rolled clumsily out of the woods stopping another twenty feet closer to the hole and listened as its player continued on with their conversation.

"So many of my clients play golf, I thought it would be a good move to learn to play myself."

John was on his fourth swing trying to get out of the sand. Muttering, "Fuck it," he picked the ball up, and threw it at the flag. He watched it roll past the hole and off the green on the other side. He rolled his eyes like a teenager.

"I had the same idea. Thought it would be relaxing. It's not. It's frustrating as hell," he said as he joined the young man close to his ball and looked on as the kid used a wedge in an attempt to position the ball on the green.

The two watched as the ball went vertical, up, up, and over the green to land not a foot away from John's ball on the other side. "Do they call it a 'pop up' in golf?" the young man wondered aloud.

"So I thought a lot of business is done on the links, it would be relaxing and I'd get a little more exercise," John continued as they walked over the green and past the flag to their golf balls.

"That was my thinking too."

The two stopped, looking down at the dimpled white banes staring up at them.

"I hate it," John stated emphatically.

"So do I."

They stared back at the balls. It was the younger of the two who broke the silence, "I say screw the back nine. Let's go to the clubhouse."

John burst out laughing, "Sounds good to me." He extended his hand. "John Smith."

The younger man took it, "Face."

"Thought we were giving real names."

"That _is_ my real name, 'John Smith'."

John laughed again, "That really is _my_ name."

"Mine's actually Templeton Peck, but everyone calls me 'Face'." Tilting his head just slightly and smiling.

John thought he had a warm, almost shy, smile.

"When I was in the Army they called me 'Hannibal'." John was rolling the scotch in the Old Fashion glass before taking a swig.

"Really. Isn't that the one who crossed the Alps on elephants?"

"That's the one."

"You must have been a bad ass."

"A Ranger, baby."

"So you know something about firearms." Face took a sip of his Manhattan.

"A little."

"I'm much better on the firing range than on the golf course," Face professed.

"That a fact?"

"Yeah. So what do you do, John Smith?"

"Attorney."

"Criminal?"

"Corporate."

"You any good?"

"Very."

"You have a family?"

"No, well yes." He sighed. "Not really."

"I see." Face had his head tilted again. Earnestly looking at him. Wanting to hear what he had to say.

John looked at the kid. He was smiling that smile again, _Damn he's good looking_. It felt right to continued on, "My parents are gone and I have a brother I don't speak to. There's an ex-wife out there too."

"Children?"

"Yes, well no." He always got tripped up on that question, even after all these years. "We lost her when she was six. Leukemia." What the hell was he doing?

There were people he knew for years he barely mentioned any of this to. Yet here he was telling this stranger what a mess his family life had turned into. The kid was so easy to talk with.

"I'm so sorry," Face said while placing a reassuring hand on John's forearm.

"Thank you." He took another sip of his scotch as the hand retreated. "What line of work are you in?"

"I comfort."

"Like a grief counsellor?"

"Could be."

John furrowed his brow, turned his head slightly to the left and barely shook it, telling the young man he wasn't fully understanding.

"If you're hurting or just need support I offer comfort." He paused to let it set in.

"I don't think I'm following you. You're a therapist?"

"Well no. I'm not licensed and I don't claim to cure anything. I comfort people in distress. Whether it be physically or as a sounding board." He spun his barstool to face John. "Let's say, for instance, you lost your job. You may feel hurt, angry and scared. I can't get your job back, or get you a new one, or promise you it will be alright, but I can help ease the turmoil. I can help you to release comfort hormones to help counteract the stress hormones. I can help you exchange cortisol with endorphins."

"And how do you do that?"

"A hug does wonders for people. Sometimes a touch or holding hands will do. There are times it just feels right to sit and be held." He took a sip of his drink. "I'm not a talk therapist. I don't give advise or try to steer a client's thoughts to a resolution. I'm just there for comfort." He watched John for a reaction then went on, "There's no sex and the comfort comes with no strings attached. It is what it is, when it is. Although, I've found the effects are not only residual, but the memory can often duplicate the same endorphin response later.

"It's not just for crisis situations. Unfortunately there are plenty of people out there who live such stressed lives they're never able to unwind. Maybe they're so busy they don't have time to date and establish a relationship. But people in general need contact. Need, if not physical touch, at least acceptance and understanding." He fingered the cherry out of his cocktail. "I provide that service. I provide a safe interaction without the expectation of sex or emotional involvement."

"So you're a cuddler?"

He laughed, "Yeah. I guess that's one way of putting it. Might have to add that to my business card."

John couldn't believe it. "You're serious."

"As a heart attack."

John was laughing now. "Well I'll be damned."

Face was used to the reaction. "Don't knock it til you've tried it."

"I could hire you to come by and hold my hand."

"Yup. Although, you maybe more comfortable with one of my female comforters."

"There's more than one of you?"

"I now have six comforters, three men and three women, and a bookkeeper. I've been considering a Golden Retriever, but that may not be for another year or two."

"It's your company."

He was opening his wallet. "Sure is. Here." He handed over a business card.

John examined it. FACE, an acronym - For A Comforting Embrace.

"Which came first, your nickname or the company name?"

"The nickname. Been called that since I was a teenager."

John held it between his index and middle fingers to hand back.

"Keep it, John. You never know when you might need it." He stood and flashed a twenty at the bartender.

"Let me, Kid."

Face handed the twenty over to the bartender. "Naw. I got it." He dropped his hand on John's shoulder. He didn't slap, he didn't squeeze. Just slid his fingers onto John's clavicle then back again. John noticed it and his reaction to it right away. It was warm and intimate, but not sexual. It was comforting, godammit, and John had an inclination to lean into it, but it was gone before he did. Face accepted change from the twenty and was counting out a tip.

"This was great." Face was smiling warmly. "On your way out?"

"Huh, yeah. I am."

Walking down the sidewalk, along the filled parking spaces, they reached John's Tesla X first.

"This is where I get off. It was nice meeting you Face. Thoroughly enjoyable afternoon."

When he extended his hand Face took it in his own and reached to John's shoulder with his other. He briefly circled around the ball of the joint then dropped his hand down to cover the one he held. It was all very quick and pleasant. Nothing long enough to become uncomfortable.

"I really enjoyed the afternoon too." He eased his hands off of and out of John's. He was smiling that smile.

John had to consciously stop himself from hugging the kid.

Face gave him another smile while picking up his golf bag, "Really nice meeting you. Best round of golf, ever," and continued down the walk. John had pulled out of his space and was driving by as he saw the kid open the door on a new BMW Alpina b7. _The cuddle business must be booming these days_ , he thought to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later John was pacing in his office. Looking out over the city from what he called the fishbowl, he was on the phone with Amy Allen giving her the good news personally. He had successfully thwarted her ex-husband's attempt at blowing a hole in her journalistic empire to fund his anthropologistic studies. 

"Your payment in full is thanks enough for me, Ms. Allen. Goodbye now." 

He disconnected and removed the Bluetooth earpiece. Sitting at his desk he could no longer ignore the headache he had been trying to hold at bay since ten in the morning. Having seen he was off the phone his assistant, Murdock, came into the office with a stack of file folders. Didn't notice the man behind the desk had his eyes closed and was rubbing his temples.

"Signature pages are on the top inside each file. Please use the blue pen and don't try to 'help' me by attempting to slot the signature pages in where you only think they belong." He set the stack in front of John, topping it with a blue ink pen.

When there was no reply he finally looked at the attorney. "Oh Bossman. You okay?"

"Have a headache."

"Again?" Murdock was moving along the windows, dropping the blinds, and darkening the room. "I'll go get something that'll fix ya right up."

"No!" It came out a little harsher than he intended, but he just couldn't manage one more ambulance ride to the ER after another of Murdock's get well concoctions. "Thank you for the offer," a little softer, "but I just need some quiet time."

"You've been working too hard, Boss. Sure I can't get anything for you?"

"You can field my calls for half an hour," he said now rubbing his eyes.

"Okay, but we need to come up with some stress relief activities for you. You still golfing?"

"No." He was fishing Tylenol out of his desk drawer. "Would you please get me a glass of water?"

"Sure, Boss. I'll be right back."

John tipped two tablets out into his palm. Shaking his head he said to himself, "Golfing....Pffftt..." He hadn't been golfing since he met...the cuddler.

When Murdock returned he found John fingering a business card.


	3. Chapter 3

He had received a very business-like reply e-mail from FACE, LLC with a link to DocuSign containing terms, disclosures and a release. It took John a few reads before he was able to ingest the content. He had a tendency to read everything as a lawyer. The forms had the obvious hand of an attorney, but John saw several areas where the language of intent could be tightened up. He would talk to the kid about it. 

Also included was a questionnaire with inquiries into his general state of mind. He checked off boxes and found himself unusually honest in his replies. The very last question asked if he preferred a male or female comforter. He checked off male and in the special notes section added, "I want you."

An hour later and Murdock was back in his office pointing out on which lines in the files he didn't follow the "SIGN HERE" directions. When the phone rang Murdock picked it up on his boss' desk. 

"John Smith's office, Murdock speaking, may I help you."

"Who's calling please?"

John could hear the caller say, "Tell him it's Face."

"Do you have a last name, Face?"

"Yes I do."

"Would you care to enlighten me?" asked the protective assistant.

John held his hand up, working his fingers in a "hand it over" signal.

Murdock didn't bother covering the mouthpiece, "But he won't give me his last name."

"It's okay, Murdock. Give it here." Murdock grudgingly turned it over, "Face! Surprised to hear back from you so soon."

"That's funny," replied the voice on the other end. "I was surprised to hear from you at all," he laughed. "But I'm glad I did." It wasn't harsh or snarky. It was .... sweet.

John finished signing the last sheet on his desk next to where Murdock held a slightly annoyed index finger. "Just a second, Face. Murdock, will you close the door on your way out?"

"I just have..." Murdock began.

"When I'm done here. Okay? Please close the door behind you."

"Sorry about that Face."

"You sound like a patient man for a lawyer."

"Not really. But my assistant Murdock is special."

"Well let's get to it. Okay?"

"Ready." John tilted back in his chair.

"First off you state you want me. I want to confirm you understand. Though not sexual, this can become quite intimate. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a woman? I recall you saying you have an ex-wife, which generally implies you would be more comfortable with a woman. I need you to be honest here. You won't hurt my feelings."

"I'm sure. I'm also sure I want you, not another male as a substitute. Let's just say my comfort levels are the same with men or women."

"Then you're in luck."

"How so?"

"You'll be my last new client. I won't be taking on anyone new and I'll be fazing out who I have."

"I'm honored. Closing up shop?"

"No. Going to focus behind the scenes. Special attention to marketing. Besides, someone needs to housebreak the puppy."

This made Hannibal laugh. "Where do we start?"

"That's up to you. You're the client."

John huffed a little laugh, "You're going to have to guide me a little here, Kid. I'm still not sure what to expect. Don't know what to expect or if this is even the right thing for me."

"We'll need to get together, obviously. Would you like it to be in private or in public?"

John went blank. It would have seemed he didn't understand the question. "Huh, I don't know."

"You're hesitant. Don't want to overwhelm you with too much direct attention. Let's go public. Okay?"

"Okay." 

"When are you free?"

"Oh. I...I don't know. Just a minute." He had his tablet open and was pulling up his calendar. "I have this coming Sunday afternoon, next Wednesday morning..."

Face interrupted, "What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?"

"I won't have a lot of time then. Only an hour. Maybe ninety minutes at the most."

"Perfect."

"Thought I read you have a two hour minimum."

"We're just getting started. I'll bend that rule for a first meeting."

"You're forgetting we've already met."

"Not forgetting at all. Haven't forgotten since that day. Just want to accommodate my new client."

John could hear the smile through the phone. "Okay. Lunch it is. What time?"

"What time's good for you?..."


	4. Chapter 4

Two o'clock at Legal Seafood in Cambridge was a quiet time. Most of the lunch crowd was gone and the rest were winding down, paying checks. John immediately saw Face when he walked in. He was nattily dressed in a dark navy suit jacket and the matching cigarette pants, white shirt, and no tie. Could have been on the cover of GQ, stylishly up to date and handsome as all get out.

Face stood as John approached the table, buttoning his jacket as he rose. "Good to see you again, John." As he shook hands he also grasped John's forearm with his left hand, sliding it down to cover the top of theirs together as he had done in the country club parking lot. Before letting go, he gave John's hand an extra squeeze and motioned to the booth seat along the wall for John to sit.

Face unbuttoned his jacket before taking the chair next to John at the four-top rather than across from him. Pulling his chair foreword with both hands he then rested one on the table and the other on John's leg, under the table, under the cloth, hidden from view. "I'm really so happy you got in touch with me. I mean that sincerely." Under the table he didn't squeeze John's leg so much as barely tighten his hand. And then it was gone.

John was starting to sense an MO. Make an intimate move, but back off before it could be perceived as overt. This was comfort, after all, not groping. He almost believed what the handsome young man said to him. Took him a few to remind himself this was scripted. Face knew his lines, but John was improvising.

"Why is that?"

"Didn't you feel like we hit it off?"

"Well yes, but that's not why we're here," John challenged, always the lawyer.

"Sure it is. At least partly. If we hadn't hit it off you never would have made contact much less asked for me specifically." There was nothing impudent in his voice, there was no response to the challenge in John's.

John couldn't put his finger on a fallacy. The kid seemed genuinely happy to see him. He didn't know how it made him feel; nervous or at ease.

"Like I said before, I don't know if this is right for me or not. Think a lot of the draw had to do with you."

"Did a good job of selling the service, did I?" He was laughing.

John knew it wasn't the case, but he felt like he was on a first date. Not a hook up, like he'd become so accustomed to, but a real live date and he was nervous as hell, like he forgot to stop to pick up the flowers.

"Are you alright John?" Face rested a hand on John's wrist, fingering his pulse point.

"I gotta tell ya, I'm nervous as hell."

"That's not good. Means I'm not doing a very good job. Here." He handed John a menu. "Let's order."

They perused the menu quietly for a few minutes. Then Face spoke up, "I like their broiled scrod with breadcrumbs. How 'bout you?"

"Tarter sauce."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I like their tarter sauce," John clarified, not looking up.

"You should try it with the fish," Face suggested.

"Sorry?"

"The tarter sauce. You should try it on some fish. Though far be it from me to come between a man and a fingerful of tarter sauce."

It was enough to break John's funk. He was laughing and it all became easier. Their conversation slid back to the loose and relaxed feel it had at the country club. Face ordered the scrod with tarter sauce and John ordered tarter sauce with some fish. Just before their meal was served, John excused himself to text Murdock, telling him he would be late returning and to push back or reschedule his afternoon appointments.

They chatted generalities and on subjects of no importance. When the silences came John became somewhat apprehensive with the situation again. But Face never let it go on long and filled the void fluidly. The kid knew how to talk, that's for sure. Not in a never shuts up kind of way, but a practiced conversationalist.

When they were finished, John picked up the check as was stated in the agreement. Leaving the restaurant Face moved ahead to hold the door open for John, giving him the opportunity to guide him by placing a gentle hand on the small of his back.

"You need to get back to work, huh?" Face had slid his hand from John's lower back up to the back of his shoulder.

"Actually, I have a little extra time. I asked Murdock to move my appointments back. How about you? Need to get to someone else?"

"Only thing beckoning me this afternoon is my desk and paperwork. It can wait a little longer. Where do you want go?"

"We could go down to the river for a bit," John suggested.

"Sure."

They made their way out of the square down to the Charles River. Face had ingratiated his hand in John's and held it without fuss as they walked along the bike path. Though bi, John had never been publicly demonstrative with his male companions. Holding hands with a man while walking was new and a bit unnerving.

"How is this for you, John?" Face had guided them to the edge of the path and they were now overlooking the river. "Tell me."

John scanned the path left and right then took his hand back. "I'm feeling forced."

"I've been too aggressive?" Face slid his fingers in his pant pockets, making his hands unthreatening.

"No. Not really. You've been very subtle. I think it's a little too public for me. I've been looking over my shoulder a lot."

"I've noticed that." Face turned to him, holding his eyes. The directness of it was disconcerting. John was no stranger to directness, as a matter of fact he was a master of it. But not in this context. Those blue eyes were so soft. So gentle. "Where should we go from here? I'd really like a chance to leave you with a better impression."

"I don't know Face. It just doesn't feel..."

"We have more private options you know," and he smiled that smile.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Let's see .... We could meet at a hotel room. Frankly not one of my favorites, even if it's here at the Charles. There's your place. I keep my place off limits. We could go to a movie. To a park. Not like the Commons, that's too open. But I know of a great wildlife sanctuary up Rt. 1 in Topsfield. There are the Berkshires if you'd like to take a drive. We could head up the coast to Gloucester or Newburyport." He took his hand. "We have a lot of options."

John felt his knees wobble, those eyes, that gentle and kind expression. He wanted to know what it would be like to relax with this man. Let him in rather than holding him at bay as he was now. He felt so open and exposed out here.

"This isn't meant to be nerve wracking. It's meant to give you a contented feeling, like warm scents from your childhood or puppy breath."

"Puppy breath?"

"Haven't you ever smelled puppy breath?"

"Can't say I have."

"It's ...it's downright delightful."

"Delightful, huh?"

"Delightful," Face confirmed.

"Do you work on weekends?" John asked.

"Not usually, but..."

"But for your new client you'll make an exception?"

Face laughed. "Yeah, that."

"Sunday afternoon?"

"Sunday afternoon."

"May I have your number? I'll text you the address right now." John was pulling his phone out, queuing up contacts."

"I don't usually give out my cell number right away." He had a hand on his hip and one rubbing his neck. He looked out to the river.

"That's alright. I'll e-mail it to you." John said easily and looked back at the kid.

"We should go, huh?"

"Yeah, I have some dictation that needs tending too and return calls to make." John glanced at the river.

He was probably startled because he didn't see it coming. Face had gathered him in a hug. Reflexively, he hugged him in return. Face let go and took a step back.

"I'm already looking forward to Sunday." The kid was smiling.

Sounding to himself somewhat surprised, John replied, "You know? So am I."

They walked back to the restaurant and were each going their own way when Face called back to him, "John, wait up a second."

John paused while the kid ran to him. He had a big smile on his face, "My number is 617-734-3...."


	5. Chapter 5

It was three o'clock Sunday afternoon and Brock, John's doorman, had announced Face's arrival. He opened his door just as the younger man was stepping off the elevator.

"Welcome."

Face caught John's eye at the greeting and there was that smile. "Hi John."

"Come in," he said as he extended his arm into the condo. He closed the door and leaned back against it as Face surveyed the place.

"This is beautiful John," Face enthused. John pushed off the door to stand upright as the kid turned back and smiled brightly at him. Face stepped to him and took him in a hug. "Thanks for having me here."

John felt more comfortable hugging him back now they were alone. "Thanks for coming on a Sunday."

The younger man turned out of John's arms, but captured one of his hands in his own. "This saves me from having to do billings all afternoon."

"Really? You'd be working now?"

"Yeah. Seems like I'm always working," he said with a little huff of a laugh.

"Thought you said you have a bookkeeper. They don't do your billings?"

"She only works a couple of mornings a week. She picks up what I can't get to."

"Well I'm happy I could divert you from your labors." As soon as it was out he realized what he'd said. The kid _was_ working.

Face gave him an understanding grin and squeezed his hand before letting go. John didn't let go immediately, there was a split second he held on. Hadn't even registered the kid was holding his hand until it was gone.

"Let me show you around."

Returning back from the tour to the stainless kitchen, Face lean up to the island, hands spread wide. "I got a little turned around, is this whole floor yours?"

"This one, the one above, and the rooftop."

"Really? That's awesome. More bedrooms upstairs?"

"No. Exercise room and game room. Well it's a pool table and bar. Come on. I'll take you up."

"Let's save it for next time." He looked around the kitchen. "Think I liked the library best."

"That's good, because that's where we'll be spending the afternoon." John was opening the fridge. "What would you like? Beer? Water? Soda? Have a full bar, could fix you a cocktail. What were you drinking in the clubhouse? Manhattan?" He was rummaging. "Forgot Murdock was here the other day. He always makes iced tea."

"An iced tea sounds great."

"Crushed or cubed?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Crushed or cubed? How do you want your ice?" John had a glass sitting in the ice dispenser of the fridge.

"Uh...cubes, I guess." He was wearing that smile.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" John asked. He took his cue from his guest and poured himself an iced tea.

"Because you're a high falutin' lawyer and you're waiting on me. We've kinda gotten the signals crossed. I'm supposed to be doing for you." He took the tea. "Thank you."

"Don't be silly. Wouldn't expect you to show up here with your own can of Coke." He came out from behind the island and motioned to the doorway with a tip of his head, "Come on."

They had agreed a movie would be a good way to spend the afternoon and had discovered they shared a love for great capers or just about anything made in the sixties. John lead them back to the library. Setting his drink down he went to one of the bookcases. Grabbing hold of it he slid it to the left revealing a widescreen with a DVR and DVD player. He powered on the TV and DVD player.

"Rififi, The Italian Job, Sexy Beast or Thief. Your choice, Kid. They're all there on the end table."

"What do you want to see? Today is supposed to be about you." He was holding Sexy Beast in one hand and Rififi in the other.

"Have you seen either of those?"

"No I haven't but..."

"Pick one and cue it up. I forgot I bought popcorn and Raisinets. Be right back." He was out the door before Face could respond.

John returned with a filled serving tray: mini ice bucket, pitcher of tea, bowl of popcorn and four boxes of the chocolate covered raisins.

"Let me help you with that."

"No, I'm good. Sit down."

"John, I don't think you're very clear on the concept here. I'm supposed..."

"Relax, will ya Kid? The end result is for me to get some pleasure out of this. For me to de-stress and relieve my headaches, right?"

"Exactly. So..."

"So if it makes me feel good to serve you iced tea and popcorn it means the endorphins are flying. And if the endorphins are coursing through me, you've done a good job."

Face crossed his arms. "Nice try."

"What do you mean, 'Nice try',?"

"You're trying to rewrite the rules to manipulate the situation here."

"Uh-oh. Something tells me the ole endorphins are going to be flagging any time now."

Face couldn't help but chuckle. He held his hand out. John just looked at it. Face wiggled his fingers impatiently. John sighed and took it in his own.

Pulling him forward Face turned and plopped to the sofa taking John with him. "You've been trying to avoid me." The younger man could feel the tension radiating off him. "You're the one who needs to relax." He pressed play and held John's hand in both of his.

He surmised this man was used to being in charge, used to commanding. He wouldn't be a pushover. But that was alright on a couple of fronts. John would reap more benefits than the average client. Letting his guard down and truly relaxing seemed to be something he was sorely lacking in his life. For Temp, it would be a challenge.

John looked at their hands entwined, took a deep breath and let it out slow. He sensed Face was watching him. When he looked over the kid slid into a wide smile. He put one of his hands on the arm of the sofa, but lifted his other and turned it. He ran the back of John's hand down his cheek then lowered them, still together, to his leg.

On the screen a giant boulder had given way just missing the the blond man on its way to settling at the bottom of the swimming pool. Face squeezed John's hand, only loosening after the boulder skimmed past what would become the movie's central character. He looked to John and huffed an embarrassed little laugh. His client smiled and gave a reassuring squeeze back. They were settling in.

Face was befuddled. How had this train gone so far off the tracks? He was the one who was nervous. Not from the gentleman next to him, but from the crazy fuck on the screen. Sipping from his iced tea he jumped over something Logan, Ben Kingsley's character, just did. He reached his arm over John's shoulders to lean him in, hold onto him. He could feel the stiffness of his body as he held his breath. "Breathe," John whispered to him. And he did. And it was better. And this wasn't how it was supposed to work. There was a gentle pat on his leg, a silent, "It's okay."

 

As the end credits rolled Face powered off the TV. He was about to make a comment when he realized John's head hadn't moved and was relaxed just below his shoulder. He was sleeping. One hand tucked into the small of Face's back. The other resting on his stomach. Their time was up, but he didn't have the heart to wake the sleeping man.

Instead, he wrapped both arms around him and snugged him in. He nestled his chin into the soft silver on his head and closed his eyes. This afternoon hadn't gone exactly as planned. Face was always far better at controlling and directing events. But this man was different. They ended with the desired effect, but took a new path to get there. He dozed off thinking he was going to enjoy this. He would learn from this man.

He woke to his new client stirring in his arms.

"I'm sorry Face. I fell right to sleep." He stretched his arm. "That was pretty rude."

"It's okay. I did too." He kept his arm around John's shoulder then moved it to stroke down the back of his head. "Good?"

John let out a contented sigh. "Yeah I'm good." Settling in again he said, "I think this is going to work for me."

Face squeezed his shoulder in response and smiled to himself.

 

 

You can watch the opening of [Sexy Beast](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=OrNwZ1qc9Yk) here.


	6. Chapter 6

Face was running his fingers through John's down-soft hair while Two For the Road played on the TV. They had settled on a twice a week schedule. It was midweek and Face had arrived at seven. After setting up the movie and pizza, and settling down they hadn't started playing the film until after eight. 

John was laying across the sofa with his head in the younger man's lap. On his side he held Face around the waist, making the kid feel a bit like a large teddy bear. John had been rather quiet most of the night.

Face leaned down trying to see his gentleman. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"You're quiet tonight."

"Just trying to outlive another headache."

"Oh John. Why didn't you say something? You want to turn this off."

"No, it's feeling better."

Face paused the movie. "Let me help you with that. Okay? But I need you on your back."

"That would mean I need to let go and I'm not prepared to do that. This is the mildest the pain has been all day."

Face huffed a little laugh. "But I need to have a hand under your neck and one on your forehead." John complied and Face knelt on the floor putting his hands to work. 

As he cupped John's neck he said, "Close your eyes," and was obeyed.

He held his forehead firmly with the palm of his hand. "I want you to think of where the pain is. Is it under my hand?"

"More or less."

Face lifted his thumb, "Is it under my hand?"

"Yes, it is now."

Face lightly gripped his forehead and at the same time loosened under his neck, then was still for a moment. John moved his head slightly and Face told him, "Don't think of what I'm going to do next. Think of where the pain is centered." With that he lifted his pinkie and gently firmed his fingers more.

"Okay, I'm going to move the pain up to your hairline." He slowly smoothed his hand up the forehead ending with it centered over the edge of the silver.

John chuckled lightly and looked up as he felt the pain move with the hand, "How did you do that?"

"Freaky, huh?" Face smiled down at him. "Close your eyes." He repositioned on his knees. "I'm going to squeeze it down to a ball." 

As Face grasped his forehead with the remaining two fingers and bit of palm, John thought to himself he hadn't noticed when the index finger had been lifted. The pain did actually feel it was being compressed.

Squeezing tighter the fingers slid across his upper forehead, the ring finger lifted as did the rest of his palm, leaving only the middle finger. It was lolling in a half circle at the center of his hairline. John was paying attention to the finger, not the pain.

"When I tell you, I want you to slowly open your eyes, but don't move."

He worked the finger a little more. "Okay open." As John opened his eyes Face lifted his finger and clamped firmly with the forgotten hand on his neck. Carefully releasing his neck he again admonished, "Don't move. Lie still." He stroked the hair back from John's forehead. "How do you feel?"

"A little spacey."

"That'll go away."

John diverted his eyes from the ceiling to see the kid was smiling that smile. His eyes had an anticipating look to them. 

"It's gone."

The kid beamed.

"How did you learn to do that?"

"I read it in a library book when I was a kid, The Book of Weird."

He tightened the hand that lay over John's. He had been so subtle, so unassuming, John hadn't noticed when he placed his hand there. Face continued to brush the hair back and the older man thought he was probably a thoughtful lover, then quickly banished it from his mind. That was against the terms. Nothing sexual, no fraternization.

Face was talking, but he hadn't heard. "I'm sorry, Kid. What did you say?"

"I said don't tell anyone about that. It probably falls under some therapy category and I'm not licensed. I could get in trouble." Then in a half mumble he added, "Again." He stood. "Need anything while I'm up?"

"I need you to come finish the movie." 

What he really needed was for him to sit down. From this angle John couldn't help notice how attractive his smooth stomach and narrow hips were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not a friend successfully used this headache cure on me. No idea how or why it works.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was bright and the Tuesday was pleasantly warm. Just right to park the car and take care of a few things on Newbury Street, one of Boston's premiere shopping districts. A single street of independent storefronts. Not a chain name in sight.

Murdock noticed him first, "Hey, isn't that the Faceman?"

There on the sidewalk a foot resting on a step leading to a dress shop stood the handsome man. He was wearing the navy suit that was so becoming on him. He looked up toward the door and smiled wide. John followed his gaze to a young woman stepping through the store's door, a garment bag hooked by a finger behind her shoulder. She was Boston old money. He could spot it a mile away.

John watched as Face took two steps at a time to relieve the woman of the bag. Holding her hand he escorted her down the steps and along the sidewalk. They stopped beside a car. Face was smiling and chatting as the woman dug through her purse and produced a set of keys.

In the back seat he hung the bag on the hook over the door. Closing that door he took the woman's hand and went around to the driver's, opening it for her. Being a good foot shorter than Face she needed to rise to tip toes to reach his head with her hands and attempt to kiss him. He deftly turned his head to the side and the kiss landed on his cheek. He hugged her, resting his chin on the top of her head, speaking to her. He leaned back said something more with a huge smile taking her hand, he kissed it and guided her to sit behind the wheel. John waited for him to slip into that smile. That smile Face always smiled for him, but he never did.

He closed the door and went back to the sidewalk where he remained as she pulled out of the parking spot. When her car was well and gone he slipped his hands in his pockets, looked to the sky, spun on a heel and walked two doors down to an antique store. John watched as he trotting up the stairs and held the door open for an exiting elderly gentleman before stepping through it himself.

John looked around. Murdock was gone. Presumably he continued into the gentleman's haberdashery. Stepping into the store himself he spotted his former Captain collecting the boxes and bags they came for.

"If you'll take those, Hannibal, think I have all of these."

"Did you get what you ordered for yourself?" John asked.

"Yep. Everything's here."

Turning to the clerk, "The invoice has been sent to my office?"

"Yes sir. Offices of Morrison-Smith," confirmed the clerk.

"Thank you. Ready, Murdock?"

"As I'll ever be."

Back out to the street John glanced at the antique store, not really expecting to see the young man, before following Murdock to the car. Settled in, John asked to be dropped off at the office. Upon arrival he instructed Murdock to take his purchases to his home then take the rest of the afternoon off.

In his office he immediately made a call. After a short conversation he asked, "How long you think that'll take you?"

The voice on the other end said, "For you Hannibal? I'll have something for ya on Friday. Maybe not all the details, but I'll have something."

 

"The mudsucker's here to see you Boss." Murdock's voice came through on John's intercom that Friday afternoon.

"Send him in Murdock and hold everything for me please."

The door to the office opened and in walked BA Baracus of Bosco Investigations. John stood to shake the big man's hand then motioned to the sofa.

"Good to see you. Have a seat, BA. What did you come up with?"

"Good to see you too, Hannibal."

BA sat and immediately opened his briefcase to pull out a relatively thin file. John sat along side.

"Templeton Peck age thirty. Goes by the nickname 'Face'. An address in Winthrop. It gets interesting right away. He maybe twenty-eight. I couldn't confirm one or the other. I suspect he's the younger and been passing as older. But like I said, couldn't confirm either way.

"He's from Los Angeles. Raised in St. Mary's Orphanage, later renamed Angel Guardians Orphanage, both run by the Catholic Church. Both presided over by one Father Maghill.

"The records are sealed so I don't have any details, but it appears he has a juvy record.

"He enlisted in the Army at age eighteen. Earned a degree and commissioned in two years."

"That's impressive," John noted.

"Yep. He's smart. As a Second Lieutenant he entered training at Benning and joined the Rangers."

"He's a Ranger?" You could have knocked John over with a feather. "That's a surprise."

"Not as surprising as that fool sittin' at the desk outside your office filing his nails being one." BA was shaking his head.

"You leave Murdock alone. His shorthand is exceptional."

"He still flyin' that helicopter your firm bought?"

"Sure does."

"Sometimes I think you're a bigger fool than he is."

"Isn't it time you quit blaming him. You know you were a nervous flier before he ever did the barrel roll."

"Yeah, easy for you to say Hannibal. Wasn't you sittin' by yourself in the back of that deathtrap."

John chuckled. "What else you got?"

"He tested off the charts in the service and is one hell of a marksman. Was deployed to Iraq as a sniper. But then came back almost immediately. Was only on active combat duty for a little more than four months. Came back here to the D.C. Metro area as the personal assistant to a general. Couldn't come up with the general's name. Like I told you, it would take more time for all the details.

"About six months in after returning to the States he had one charge after another filed against him. The general it seems got him off of all of them."

"What kind of charges?"

"AWOL, petty theft. Nothing major, but he was a nuisance. Then nine months after returning he has an honorable discharge and disappears for a year and a half. Shows up as the victim of an assault back in L.A.

"What kind of assault?"

"Doesn't say. All I got was he was transported to the hospital via ambulance. Charges were never finalized and not considered filed, then he disappears again."

"What do you mean by 'disappears'?"

"Falls off the grid. Don't see anything on him. Don't see anything for another year, when he files an income tax return for an LLC called For A Comforting Embrace, DBA FACE. Been investigated a couple of times."

"For?..." John queried.

"Suspicion of prostitution to start."

"And?..."

"No findings of wrong doing. Next it's investigated for practicing therapy without a license. Again, no findings of wrong doing. Next, a former employee was picked up for solicitation. After another investigation, no findings of wrong doing. The former employee was just that and there was no concurrent association. Last one concluded two years ago. A complaint was filed with the IRS stating the company, though not proven to be in the prostitution trade is an escort service and not the misc service as registered. One more time, no findings of wrong doing.

"So either he's very clever or he's not doing anything wrong."

"Or both. From what I've been able to put together, this ADA Hirsch had a real hard on for Peck. Made it a mission to nail him for something, but never succeeded."

"Any personal info?"

"Looks like he put down payments on a photographer, baker and florist back in..."

Hannibal cut him off. "He's getting married?"

"Not anymore. He was engaged to one Charissa Sosa, a headhunter with a downtown Boston firm, but it was called off. That was three and half years ago. More recently, well two years ago, it appears he was in a short-lived relationship with another man, but again, that's not something I can confirm. Could have just been a roommate."

"So you found nothing nefarious."

"When I see blank spots like that, it always makes me wonder, but I'm not finding anything obvious but someone who has an unusual business and seems to be making a go of it."

"Thank you BA. You'll of course keep this to yourself."

"O' course fool. What do you take me for?" BA was shaking his head after yet another reminder his lot in life is to deal with fools. Even if they're as smart as Hannibal, they're all still fools in his book.

Hannibal chuckled. "We haven't gotten together for a while now. What do say I have you and Tanisha, and Murdock and Wendy over for a cookout."

"Long as you don't let Murdock make any BBQ sauces with," he crooked fingers for quotation marks, "special ingredients, I'm in."

"We could order out. Might be safer." This got a laugh out of the big guy. He didn't laugh often, which made when he did all the better.

Rising and handing the file to John he asked, "You hire this guy?"

Hannibal just smiled.

"You watch yourself Colonel."

"Thank you BA." John slapped a hand on his shoulder, "Murdock or I will call you about getting together."

John closed his door to Murdock saying, "Hey BA, you ever been to Disney World? That Dumbo ride may just be the thing we need to get you flyin' again."

"Shut up fool."

John sat at his desk with his phone and began typing, "You there?"

A minute later and he had a reply, "Hi John. What R U up 2"

"Thinking about Sunday. Want to show me wildlife sanctuary?"

"Sounds good"

"I'll pick you up. Tell me where."

"I'll come to you What time"

"My place@noon?"

I'll B there How's your head"

John smiled at the memory. "Not a twinge since the other night."

"Good I'm glad C U Sunday."

"See you then."

Murdock had come in the office. "You're grinning like the Cheshire Cat. You have the deposition in ten minutes."


	8. Chapter 8

John had cancelled their regular Wednesday night appointment and Face found himself jonesing to be out that night. He should have spent the evening catching up on filing, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he got in his car and drove to Chestnut Hill to visit the mall.

He had promised himself a new overnight bag. Now was as good a time as any to go to the Coach store. It didn't hurt there was a Brooks Brothers there too.

Fingering fabrics for custom shirts in Brooks he caught someone out of the corner of his eye watching him. _Store security_ he thought. Must look like he was slumming it in his jeans and loose sweater.

He was leaning against the counter surveying the Coach store as the clerk wrapped his bag. There he was again. Could just be a shopper with similar tastes, but getting a better look he thought the guy was familiar yet he couldn't place him.

 

Sunday didn't come too soon. It was five o'clock and they were back from their excursion North. They had wound around Perkins Row to the Audubon Sanctuary and spent hours walking the paths and trails.

John still wasn't okay with the public displays, but he was trying. Face recognized his efforts and didn't pressure him. Instead of the physical contact he did his best to keep conversation light, unchallenging, nonthreatening, .....calming.

Face had given in a little and broke his resolution to keep his private life out of their talks by telling about his childhood spent in an orphanage in L.A. He only touched on the essentials, but it was more than he told any other client. He wanted to say more, but he liked John and didn't want to drive him away with his messier details.

They were back at John's condo in the city unwrapping the eggplant subs they'd picked up in Danvers. John opened a beer and offered one to Face who as usual declined, favoring instead something nonalcoholic. It was a subtle yet constant reminder that Face didn't drink on the job. And all of this was a paid service. And Face was working.

While they ate John told him more of heading a unique Ranger Alpha Team consisting of himself, Murdock, a Ray Brenner who had moved to California, and another man living in the Boston area, BA Baracus. He spoke of their work and of how when John had had enough, they all resigned with him. Said they didn't want to serve under anyone but their Colonel.

He honed in on Murdock. Told the rather surprised Face what a genius Murdock was in the air. Telling tales ranging from a certain flight crossing the border from Mexico to the U.S., to just in the nick of time extractions under fire.

Face noted Murdock seemed like a goof. John huffed a little laugh, "That he is." But also explained Murdock had some stability issues. He worried about the pilot's inability to find and hold a civilian job after leaving the service. BA had taken him into his company, but it couldn't last. When John and his Army friend, Retired General Russ Morrison, decided to hang their shingle, John brought in Murdock immediately.

They had only been in business ten years. Upon leaving the Army John finished his graduate work at Harvard. He credits, sometimes blames, their success on their Army ingrained strategic and tactical thinking. They did well enough to purchase a helicopter their second year for Murdock to fly them wherever at a moment's notice. It gave them, as a firm, an edge. It returned to Murdock his reason for living.

"Tell ya what. Can you block out all of next weekend?" John asked.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I'll see if Murdock and his wife are free to go to New York for the weekend. He can fly us all down there for an overnight. What a ya say?"

"Uh, I don't know what to say. I...," he was taken by surprise.

"Oh. I wasn't thinking. You probably have another client on Saturdays."

"Yeah, well, I did, I just told her this past week that I couldn't see her anymore. Told her that I'm segueing into a more behind the scenes role. There was her and I met with someone else earlier in the week to let them know too."

"So you're dumping all of us." John put his sandwich down and took a pull from his beer.

"No! Not everyone."

"Am I one?"

Face took his hand. "No, you're not one." He wasn't ready to tell John he was the only one remaining.

 

John knew by mid afternoon he wouldn't make it home in time to meet Face. He suggested a break. The negotiations had deteriorated down to nit picking and a breather was in order.

In the hall he pulled his phone and sent off a text. "Will be running late. If you have time, stop by office to pick up a key from Murdock. If unable to make it call him."

He sent a second to Murdock. "Face picking up key to condo. DON'T give him a hard time. Please & Thank You"

Handing over the key to John's condo Murdock couldn't help himself, "There are only four of us who have a key to Hannibal's home. He only gives it to the people he holds dear. Kinda makes us a team. ..... A - Team," he said again, emphasizing the two words. "Don't abuse it."

"I won't. I promise."

Pulling out of the parking garage he looked right, he looked left, he looked directly into the eyes of the man who had been popping up seemingly everywhere. Getting his first close and clear look at him he knew exactly who it was. _What the fuck is he doing here?_

 

"I want to give you your key back before I forget."

"Keep it."

"You want me to have this?"

John slow blinked and tilted his head in time to a shrug of his shoulders. "I like knowing you have it. Makes me feel good. And that's the goal, right?"

Instead of waiting for a reply he changed the subject. "I had Murdock book the suite the two of us use when we go to New York on business. You'll like it. Three rooms, two and half baths. Two bedrooms with their own baths and a large living and dining room. Murdock and Wendy have their own suite."

"Are you sure about this?" Face didn't sound sure at all.

"About the key or New York?"

"Both?"

"Yes. Now come on, Temp. Mind if I call you Temp? I'm hungry," tipping his head toward the kitchen and bag of Chinese waiting there.


	9. Chapter 9

The pilot and his wife had stopped for cocktails before heading to the aviation exhibit and opening night fundraiser. It didn't take long for the couple, Murdock in particular, to be charmed by Face. It became obvious to his old friend how this man had elicited such a change in Hannibal. He had noted the headaches were gone, but now saw first hand the calming influence.

"We should be on our way, Wendy." 

Goodnights were said and a promise of breakfast together in the morning was made. John noted they needed to leave as well to make their reservation. Outside the hotel they went in opposite directions.

At dinner John offered Face wine fully expecting him to decline. Instead he announced he was off the clock and would be happy to share the bottle. After dinner they stopped for cocktails and were both, let's just say, appreciably looser than they were when they set out for the evening.

Walking back to the hotel John wrapped an arm around Temp. "Having a good weekend?"

Temp laughed loud. "What kind of stupid question is that?" He reached his hand up to cover John's on his shoulder.

John stopped them and stood in front of his inebriated companion and just looked at him. Temp held his gaze for a moment then looked to the ground seemingly embarrassed from the scrutiny.

With his hands on either side of Temp's face he asked, "Is this okay?"

"What? Is what okay? You just standing there?" He asked a little too forcefully. He was clearly drunk. "You just standing there like an idiot not kissing me? Is that what you mean? No. It's not okay. But we can change that." He leaned in and kissed John.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry. You don't like anything in public. I'm sorry. I forgot. You know, I've had a lot to drink." Temp was flustered.

"I know you have, Babe. So have I."

John pulled him in. His lips landing lightly on Temp's. He sighed from the softness of them. He opened his mouth inviting Temp to do the same. As Face did, he wrapped his arms around and held tight. Their tongues met and John felt Temp melt into him.

He kissed as sweetly as John thought he would. Even in this drunken state he was alternately giving and receptive. Feeling the security and strength of being held in those arms sent a warm wash through the older man. When they parted they leaned their foreheads together.

"You know something? I haven't been golfing since that day." John chuckled.

Face laughed. "Me either!" He broke away looking directly at John. "I was looking for something by taking up golf. Turned out I was a little mixed up about what it was, but I'm glad I found what I needed in the end. Glad I found you. Haven't had the urge to go back. It's like they say...you always find something in the last place you look. Of course it's the last place you look. Once you find it, who in their right mind keeps looking and I'm babbling." His eyes looked briefly to the side. "Maybe we should get back to the hotel." He was wearing an utterly charming lopsided grin.

 

Face was standing with his suit coat open, hands on hips. He was settled on one foot with the knee of his other leg cocked out. "You want me to try?"

"I happen to be a retired Colonel of the United States Army. I led an elite Alpha team. I'm a Harvard graduate. I'm now a respected and successful attorney in the great city of Boston. I won't be outmaneuvered by a hotel keycard, godammit."

"You want me to try?"

"Sure."

Before the door closed behind them Temp was on him. Holding his head tightly, devouring his mouth with his lips, with his teeth. He sucked in John's lower lip and was moving them backwards. He turned and led the way to the master bedroom of the suite.

Pulling John by his hand he flung him to the bed. John almost resisted out of instinct, but instead found himself bouncing lightly on his back.

"Hey! Stay right there. I almost forgot." And Temp was out the door. Not two minutes later he was back and had a smallish box wrapped with a satin bow in his hand. "I got you something."

John took the gift and looked up. Temp wasn't looking back at him. His gaze was fast on the box. "Open it."

John untied the bow and lifted the lid to exam the contents. He took the object out and turned it in his hands before chuckling. "I don't know what it is. I think I know, but I'm not sure."

The kid was grinning from ear to ear. "It's a trench lighter!" John was still turning it this way and that. "I met one of my clients on Newbury St. to tell her I couldn't see her anymore. I went into an antique store and found it there. It's what the soldiers used to use in the trenches. I saw it and thought of you. You and the Army and your cigars. You like it?" He was still looking at the lighter.

"I love it. Thank you." He took Temp's hand and urged him forward. "Come here."

Face climbed on the bed on hands and knees and straddled the man, laying him down. He began working John's tie while they kissed.

John started wondering what the problem was when Face leaned back and up continuing to fumble with the silk knot. He opened his eyes to Temp with a look of concentration and determination on his face. When John reached up to loosen the tie himself his hand was batted away.

The tie had come loose, but next up was a real challenge, working the top button of the shirt. John's Adam's apple was beginning to hurt as the younger man used it for leverage to solve this conundrum that is a button and buttonhole. John reached up and took both of Temp's wrists in his hands.

Through his own fog he got a good look at the younger man. Still beautiful but with glazed eyes and a silly grin. John sat up and rolled the kid to the bed, quickly unbuttoning the button himself when he saw those none too clever hands reaching for it again.

"Come on Face." He stood then pulled the kid to sitting by a hand.

"Where we going? Thought we were going to make love." Except John was only guessing that's what he said. Between the slur and mumble it wasn't very clear.

"Gotta brush your teeth."

Temp smiled up at him then shrugged. "Okay."

John walked him to the bathroom in the second bedroom. He slid his coat off, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button before setting him up with a pasted tooth brush.

He watched from the doorway as Face brushed and chattered away about God knows what while looking at John in the mirror. When he was done brushing, he rinsed and turned his attention to the toilet.

Finished in the bathroom John took him to the side of the bed and turned down the covers. He unbuttoned all of the shirt buttons and the button on his pants saying, "There's a head start. Take off your clothes and get in bed. I'll be back in a bit."

"Where you going?" He was working his zipper.

John was walking backwards to answer him. "Need to brush my own teeth."

John went to the bath adjoining his bedroom in the suite and repeated what Face had just done. When he came back out he hung his jacket in the closet and rolled up his shirt sleeves before making his way back to the other bedroom.

The kid was just the way he wanted him. Sitting himself on the edge of the bed John brushed the wayward curls off his face and behind an ear. He smiled down at that lovely face before kissing his forehead. "You deserve so much better than a drunken fuck," he whispered as he hovered over the sleeping man. "Goodnight Face."

Switching off the light and dropping the kid's pants on the chair where he left the jacket he retreated from the room and quietly closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

"Face, I want us to be 'we'. I want us to be together."

"There can't be a 'we'. It won't work."

"Why not?"

"You don't want me. I have too much baggage." He tried to shrug it off. "You need someone who won't be a drain or a strain, and I'm both."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of what I need?" He took a long hard look at Face. "Oh."

"What 'Oh'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's me."

"No!"

"Do you think I'm too old for you, Temp?"

"What?! No! Come on, John. Don't do this."

"You don't feel the same toward me." Then a look of realization moved across his face. "Oh Jeezus, you're straight."

"No, yes ....and no. Well not really. I mean I'm bi. But that's not it. Hey! Wait a minute. You knew that."

John was smiling at him. "Want to be your beau."

Temp rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Kid. Tell me what it is then."

"I told you."

"You told me you're not good enough for me."

"I'm not."

"Bullshit." He stepped forward taking Face's hand. "Having your arms around me while we kissed made me the happiest I've been in years. You're more than good enough for me. The real question is am I deserving of you?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Imagine my surprise when I saw you walking into Brooks Brothers."  
"What do you want from me?"  
"Some things never change, do they Face?"  
"Fuck off."  
"That's exactly what I'm looking for. You know, you're not pretty like you used to be....now you're older. You're handsome now, though. And more experienced I presume. What are you charging these days? Hmm? How much to relive the past?"


	12. Chapter 12

There was a frantic message on his phone when he stepped out of court. It was Face cancelling. He sounded bad. Shaken.

John tried returning the call, but received no answer. He called Murdock to see if Face had first called there. No he hadn't. John was in his car headed in the direction of Winthrop. He called BA for the street address then punched it into his GPS. Soon he was in front of a sad two-flat in not any of the better sections of town.

The kid opened the door only a few inches. "John? What are you doing here?"

"Came to check on you, Kid."

"I'm okay, so you can go."

Face shifted on his feet just enough for John to get a glimpse of the other side of his nose. The white of his eye was crimson and the flesh around it was an angry red, just beginning to bruise.

"Face, don't make me force my way in there. Let me in."

"Go away John. Just go." He tried closing the door. John was prepared for it, stopping the momentum with a foot and barged forward. Inside Face had turned away.

"Get out! Just go."

John went to him taking him by the shoulders. He turned the younger man to face him.  
"Oh god Face. What happened?" The entire side of his face was swollen, spread with bruising. His lip was cut and bleeding. There were deep red marks around his neck where it was obvious he had been choked.

"The same godamm thing that you just did! What makes you think it's okay to push your way in here? How did you even find me? What? Did you follow me home too?" There were tears puddling in his eyes.

"What do you mean 'follow you home _too_ '? How did this happen?" John was trying to keep his voice low and level.

Face shook his head, wouldn't look at him.

"Face? Who did this to you?" He reached forward and cupped the side of the kid's head.

Face stared at the floor. A tear dripped off the tip of his nose.

John wrapped him in his arms. Face tried to push away, to fight. But all the fight was out of him and his ribs hurt where he had taken several blows. John rested his cheek on his head and rocked him.

"It's okay, Babe. It's okay."

"But it's not okay."

"It will be. You're coming home with me."

"I can't do that. I can't put you out like that."

"Well you can't stay here."

"I can't just leave my office." He pushed himself out of the embrace.

"This is your office?"

"Yeah, you caught me. A shitty apartment in Winthrop, a blue collar town. Happy?" Then offhandedly, "I stay for the garage."

"Face, I had no idea." This wasn't what John had envisioned. "It doesn't matter though, Kid," he said gently.

Face went down to one knee to begin picking up papers scattered over the floor. "Can't afford a fancy glass office," he said defensively. "I'm making enough to meet my payroll and the rest of the overhead, which isn't much." He motioned around the cramped room. "Been able to pull a decent and regular salary for the past four years straight."

"Face, I didn't mean to sound critical. I was just a little surprised, that's all."

"Sounded a bit snotty to me," he snapped. His hand was shaking as he ran it through his hair. "I budget enough to buy a current style suit once a year and upgrade my car every three. The rest I'm saving to buy a house one day or maybe a fancy condo like yours."

He looked around the room. "You caught me on a good year. Traded in my last car and just bought my new suit the week before we met."

"The Alpinas aren't inexpensive," John commented as he picked up a desk lamp and righted a pencil cup.

"No, but they hold their value for trade in. Besides, the car and the suit go a long way in trying to woo an upper bracket clientele."

He looked John dead on. "Would you have given a second thought to some guy in a five year old suit driving a Focus?"

He had a point. But that wasn't what was important now. "Someone came here and did this to you?"

Temp dropped his eyes back to the floor.

"Come on, Kid. I'm not leaving you here."

 

At the condo John had wrapped ice in a towel and was holding it to Temp's swollen eye and cheek. Temp was holding a single cube in a washcloth to his lip.

"I used to be able to defend myself. I learned hand to hand. How quickly we forget, huh?" He shook his head. "He shouldn't have gotten as many shots in as he did. He got a jump on me. He was faster and meaner. Surprised I nailed him with a couple of good ones."

"You were a Ranger."

Face shook his head. Should have known John looked into him. "I was an embarrassment."

The towel was starting to drip from melting ice. "Let me get a plastic bag to put the ice in."

Resting the ice, now in a bag and clean towel, on the kid's face once more, John held his shoulder with his hand. He was vibrating. The adrenaline was still coursing through him and had John worried. It should have eased by now.

"You alright, Face? You're trembling."

"I'm so scared." Tears were threatening in his eyes. "It could have been bad if my neighbor hadn't knocked on the door from the noise. He ran past him. When you came I thought it was my neighbor again. Ya know? Checking on me."

John petted his hair, then held his hand.

"Christ, I'm not a fuckin' hustler anymore," he blurted out.

John was a little taken aback, confused. "Anymore?"

"I told you I'm not good enough for you. You don't want to hear all my bullshit."

"Actually I do. How bad can it be?"

Temp turned his head, touching his chin to his shoulder, avoiding John's eyes.

John set the towel and ice on the glass end table. He brushed the kid's cheek with his knuckles. "Talk to me."

Face sighed. The weight of the ages on him. "You really want to hear? Fine. I told you I grew up in an orphanage. Well there aren't a whole lot of extras for an abandoned kid in a foundling home run by Catholics."

"Abandoned?"

"Yeah, my Mom dumped me on the steps when I was four or five. Didn't want me. Didn't even leave a note. No name, no birthday, no nothing. I was so scared I couldn't talk, and when I did they couldn't understand me. I have no idea who I am."

"Oh kid."

"Growing up I always had a con. Always had an angle. The nuns were sick of me. Father Maghill wasn't, but I knew when it was time to go. So I lied about my age and enlisted at sixteen.

"The cons didn't carry over into the Army, at least not right away. I played it straight for years. Got my degree, went through Ranger training and was deployed for a few months. Things were looking up. Things were actually looking good. Then I ended up under General Winston. First figuratively then literally."

John noticed the trembling was amping up again.

"Winston pulled me from combat duty. Made me ' _his_ LT'. People would look me up and down and either show me their disgust or show him their approval.

"He always said he loved me and I believed him. Believed him up until the first time he beat the shit out of me. Actually still kinda believed him til he let his friends pull chain on me."

John suddenly had the feeling his chest was caving and his stomach turning. 

"I was so angry. Was living everyday in anger. I went back to cons like I never quit. Gave me control of something. Winston finally got tired of making excuses for me, besides, he found someone younger to fuck."

Hannibal remembered him. Arrogant with a lot of rumors circulating around him. None of them ever substantiated as he recalled. Heard he had died a couple years back.

Face continued, "He offered me a choice: court martial or honorable discharge and keep my mouth shut. Took the discharge, but there was nothing honorable about it.

"Getting out of the Army was like being dropped off on Mars." His eyes were again filling. "I didn't know what to do. Didn't have much money saved. Spent most of it on my first car. Stupid. I was the next best thing to being homeless and I started working the streets. Hell, I had already been 'deflowered'," he huffed. "Only learned two skills in the Army: how to be a sniper and how to be a hole."

John shook his head, opening his mouth to speak.

Face cut him off. "I know there were a lot more options open to me than that. Think I haven't been through all that myself? Except I was depressed. I didn't have anyone to help me. I couldn't go back to Father Maghill. I couldn't tell him what happened."

"Face it wasn't your...."

"I can recognize it now, but not then. I was in a deep depression. Couldn't get myself out of it."

"Why didn't you go to the VA?"

"Because I was in a depression."

John nodded. He got it.

"One night I was bent over a desk in a hotel room. It was a regular. Mean son of bitch. He was pounding the living shit out of me. I kept telling him I'd do whatever he wanted, just give me a pillow for my hips. I wasn't eating well and was skinny and he just kept ramming my hip bones into the edge of the desk. I looked down and they were cut and bleeding.

"When I tried to get away he grabbed me by the hair and smashed my face into the desk and the top of my head into the mirror. I just wanted a pillow. Beat the hell out of me for it. He almost killed me. Woke up in an ER." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Still needed to make money so I was back on the street two nights later. Guy that picked me up took pity on me. Said we would only have sex if I wanted, said it would be alright if we just held each other for the night. Never did find out what his story was, but he said he thought we both needed a little comfort. Paid me a thousand for twelve hours of nothing but hand holding and hugs. Can you believe that?" He chuckled at the thought of it. "Gave me the idea."

He wiped his cheeks with the heal of his hand.

"I've worked so hard for what I have. But now? Now what do I do? He'll keep coming back. He knows where I live."

"We go to the DA."

"And tell him what? This is all I have. I can't have my history dragged up. It'll ruin me. This business is all I have." John could see he was overtired and had hit a wall.

"I'll talk to the DA. It doesn't have to come out. We'll move you."

"Yeah, right. Where 'my gonna go?"

"You can stay here."

"You don't want me here. You don't need me filling your life with my bullshit. And this guy, he'll talk." He was sobbing now. John could barely understand him when he said, "It'll all be over. I'd take you down with me."

"Wait, who is this guy? A client of yours?"

"It's the same guy who beat me in the hotel room. Name is Rod Decker. He's here in Boston and he found me. He found me and he won't let me go. He saw me and recognized me. He keeps showing up wherever I am. Now he followed me home."

"I'm going to fix this for you."

"You can't," Face whispered. The tears were abating.

"No? ..... Watch me." With that he placed a kiss on Face's forehead and palmed his cheek. "Come with me."

Hannibal was holding his hand out. Face took it and stood. He was so very tired.

"Where are we going?" He was wiping his face with the heel of his hand.

"This way." John led him down the hallway. Face thought they would be going to the library, his favorite room in the condo, but they passed it. John was leading him to his bedroom.

"No John. Please don't."

He knew it wouldn't be a fair fight. He would lose. He was too tired and wrung out. He knew he would lose and then it would hurt. It always hurt when he fought. He remembered that. But the physical pain of a rape couldn't hurt as much as knowing John would do this to him too and he broke down.

John took him in his arms, "Shhhh... Don't cry, Babe. I told you before, it's okay." He started walking them to the bed. Face resisted but John urged him on. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

 _You won't hurt me if I don't fight_ Face thought.

"I won't fight you, but please John..."

"Wait, wait, wait. Temp, if I didn't take advantage of you in New York what makes you think I will now?"

"I ... I don't...."

"You're overtired. You need sleep."

John eased him down on the edge of the bed then bent down on one knee. He slipped Face's shoes off. Standing again he pressed on his shoulder urging him to lie down. Face lowered himself to the bed as John lifted his legs.

He went to the closet to retrieve a quilt and draped it over the prone man before going around to the other side of the bed, toeing off his shoes. Lifting the quilt he made his way behind Temp. He worked one arm under his neck and rested the other over his waist. Face was crying. Pulling him in close he whispered into his ear, "Don't cry, Babe. You're safe. You'll always be safe here."


	13. Chapter 13

It had been almost a month since the morning John woke alone under the quilt, a little warm from sleeping in his clothes. The memory of a kiss lingering on his temple. There had been a note on the kitchen counter saying simply, "I need time."

He went to and from the office, to and from the courthouse, to and from client meetings, to and from partners' meetings. Murdock caught him more than once staring out of his fishbowl. His headaches had returned.

Meeting again with BA, he told him he didn't care how BA handled it, but he wanted Temp's tormentor gone, permanently, willingly or not. Couldn't emphasize enough he didn't care how, but he needed him to be gone now and for good.

He respected Temp's wishes, but staying away was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He did text him once saying he wouldn't be harassed again by his assailant and added no reply was required. None was made.

Feeling anxious anytime he stepped into the library of his condo he spent evenings in the formal living area. Darkness fell outside the windows as it had always done, but there had been a change. It now seemed to penetrate the glass and fall around John as well.

A contained man by nature, John wasn't well acquainted with analyzing his own emotions. After his divorce he blocked and tamped down any efforts of his heart to lead him into sentimental relationships outside of his close circle. But now he had to admit the feelings the young man brought out in him. He had to admit he had fallen for the kid. But he also had to admit Face held deep seated hurts and issues. He was certain the two of them could make a go of it, if only Temp could see to let him in. As each day with no contact passed he knew the chances of them being together were fading.

He startled when the intercom buzzed. It was Brock calling to announce there was dry cleaning for John and he would bring it up. A few minutes later and there was a knock on the door. His throat caught when he saw Face standing there. In his arms was a Golden Retriever puppy.

"I wanted you to meet Helen." He hoisted the pup up some. "Hope you don't mind. I told Brock I wanted to surprise you."

John pulled him inside and closed the door. Wrapping one arm around his back while lacing fingers of his other through Temp's curls, he kissed him. It was gentle and undemanding. He felt the tears spring from his eyes, from what? Relief? Joy? Both? As he reluctantly broke away, Temp's lips momentarily chased him. They leaned their foreheads together and grinned like a couple of idiots.

Face's scent made John smile. Not only was it Temp's own unique essence, it was mixed with something he found to be just delightful - puppy breath.

He leaned back and his hand moved from Temp's hair to the head of the soft bundle between them.

"I've always wanted a dog."

Temp smiled that smile and said, "Well Beau, now we have one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please let me know by tapping kudos or leaving a comment.


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